


A Study in Pink

by fishis_sushi, hnnnn



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: 221B Baker Street, BBC Sherlock AU, Detective AU, Does thwt make this Johnlock too??, F/F, F/M, Gen, God - Freeform, I Believe in Sherlock Holmes, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Sherlock AU, Sherlock Holmes - Freeform, VictUuri, Viktor is Sherlock??, W H Y, Yoi - Freeform, Yuri on Ice - Freeform, makka lives, sure lets put some ice skating in with murder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-11-19 10:35:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11311602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishis_sushi/pseuds/fishis_sushi, https://archiveofourown.org/users/hnnnn/pseuds/hnnnn
Summary: brilliance and love-- together combined, you get something deadly.





	A Study in Pink

Yuuri sat up in his chair, hands folded. He didn't dare look away from the woman in front of him. He never really dared to look away, part of him intimidated by her, and the other part full of resentment. She smiled.

"How's your blog going, Dr. Katsuki?" He breathed.

"Good," He replied with haste, nodding. "Yeah. Very good." He broke the steady five minutes of eye contact, quickly glancing at the door. How he despised meetings with his therapist. Even if he was promised that he was to get better, he resented having to open up to a woman whom he wasn't very fond of. She sighed.

"You haven't written a word," She paused, giving him an exasperated look. "Have you?" She quickly moved her pen across her clipboard, looking down from eye contact with the man seated in front of her.

"You just wrote, 'still has trust issues'." Yuuri pointed out, fidgeting his fingers. She sighed again, smoothing out the papers on her clipboard.

"And you read my writing upside down." She raised her eyebrows and set her pen down. "You see what I mean?" Yuuri didn't respond. Of course he understood.

"Yuuri," she said slowly, looking at her hands. "You're a _soldier_. And it's going to take you awhile to get used to everyday life again," She looked back up. "So writing a blog about everything that happens to you will _honestly_ help you." Yuuri didn't waver.

"Nothing happens to me."

=====================================

_ A man lifts his hand, calling for a cabbie in the bustling airport. He chuckles, his phone lifted to his ear. _

_ "Can't you come pick me up, love?" _

_ "I'm busy, darling," The woman on the line responds, giggling. _

_ "Please?" _

_ "Get a cab," She laughs. "Get a cab," _

_ "Alright," The man replies, slowing to a stop as a taxi pulls up to the sidewalk. _

_ He's trembling, shaking, his eyes blurred with the tears that don't seem to end. He's mortified, nearly dropping the lid to the tiny little glass bottle containing six pills. He bites his lip and prays quietly. Tilting his head back, he slowly tosses a single pill into his mouth, swallowing carefully. He stops, feeling as sudden lurch in his stomach, falling backward, into a window. He turns around, gasping for air, face pressed against the glass. He takes a final breath and drops dead. _

_ The next day, the man's wife speaks to the press. _

_ "My husband was a happy man, " She sobbed. "He had a happy life, with wonderful children," She continued. _

_ The woman who was on the phone with the man, stood in the back of the room, quietly wiping tears away. _

========================================

_ The rain didn't let up. Not a bit. It was as if perhaps it refused to give anyone a break, pouring endlessly, flooding the streets and the sewage drains. The only light around the streets were those of the houses, and the few street lamps scattered across the town. Anyone's voice was barely audible over the loud rush of water. _

_ "Damnit... I'll go get my umbrella," A teenage boy shouted to his friend. _

_ "You could share mine," He replied. _

_ "I'll just be two minutes!" The other boy shook his head, as the teenager sprinted off in the rain. Slowly walking back, hands in pockets, eyes squinted as the rain clung to his eyelashes, he started for his home. _

_ After thirteen minutes, his friend grew impatient. _

_ The boy trembled, clutching the small glass bottle with five pills, tears stinging his eyes. He choked on muffled sobs, clenching his teeth as he wept. Shakily, he unscrewed the cap. He sat in a vacant gymnasium, sobbing as he tilted his head back and swallowed the pill. _

_ The next morning, a headline in the newspaper is titled:  _ ' Boy, 18, Kills Himself at Sports Center.'

=======================================

_ A woman, celebrating her 21st birthday at a bar with her friends, is drunk, dancing, and having the time of her life. Her sister walks up to her sober friend. _

_ "She's still dancing?" She rolls her eyes. _

_ "If you can call it that," She retorts. She grabs a drink. _

_ "Did you get the car keys off of her?" She nods and holds them up. _

_ "Got em out of her bag." She sighs. Her friend turns. _

_ "Where... Where is she?" _

_ The woman stands outside the bar, searching through her bag. When she realizes she doesn't have her keys, she waves over a taxi. _

_ She's sobbing, lost on a construction site, a bottle of four pills in her hand. She's trembling as she slowly tosses a small pill into her mouth, and swallows. _

_ In the next few hours, she is found dead. _

====================================

"The body of Beth Davenport," Yuri recites, holding up a sheet of paper. He takes a brief moment to look up at the conference. "Junior Minister for Transport was found late last night on a building site in Greater London." He sets his papers aside, then pulls out another set. "Preliminary investigations suggest that this was suicide. We can confirm that this apparent suicide closely resembles those of Sir Jeffrey Patterson and James Phillimore."

"These investigations are now being treated as linked," Yakov adds, letting out a breath.

"The investigation is ongoing, but Detective Inspector Feltsman will now take any questions you may have." Yuri turns to Yakov. The faint sound of camera shutters and the few flashes go off. There are mics hanging everywhere, and reporters raising their phones to record what the two investigators have to say. They all begin to buzz, the sound level of their chatter rising. A man raises his hand, and Yakov nods in his direction.

"Detective Inspector," He asks. "How can suicides be linked?" Yakov takes in a deep breath.

"Well, they all took the same poison. Uh, they were all found in places they had no reason to be." He looks up to make eye contact with the man. "None of them had any prior intentions--"

"But you _can't_ have serial suicides," The man interrupts. Yakov scoffs.

"Well, apparently you can."

Another man speaks up.

"These three people," He says loudly. "There's nothing that links them?"

"There's no link we've found _yet_ but-- we're, we're looking for it. There _has_ to be one." Yakov shakes his head.

Every phone in the room buzzes with a notification. Spontaneously, each reporter pulls out their phone. Yakov grunts. He can see that every reporter has a look of confusion plastered onto their faces as they each read the text they've received. Yuri shuts off his phone.

"If you've all got texts, please just ignore them," He instructs, sending Yakov a glare. The old man shoots a look back.

"It just says ' _wrong_ '." A woman speaks up.

"Yeah, well just ignore that," Yuri replies. "If there are no more questions for Detective Inspector Feltsman, I'm going to bring this session to an end." He rushes, trying to avoid the murmurs that are sparking between each reporter.

"If they're suicides, what are you investigating?" A man calls out. Yakov furrows his brows, frustrated.

"Clearly, they're all linked. It's an unusual situation but we've got our best people working on it." After Yakov finishes, once again each phone goes off.

"It says 'wrong' again," A man says timidly. Yuri dismisses the sudden occurrence.

"One more question please,"

"Is there any chance that these are murders?" A woman from the back says. "And if they are, is this the work of a serial killer?" Yakov grunts again.

"I know that you like writing about these," He says, "But these do appear to be suicides."

"We know the difference," Yuri glares at the woman. "The poison was clearly self-administered."

"Yes, but if they are murders, how do people keep themselves safe?"

"Well," Yakov states. "Don't commit suicide." Yuri nudges him. "Obviously, this is a frightening time for people, but all anyone has to do is exercise reasonable precautions. We are all as safe as we want to be."

Every phone goes off.

Yakov turns down to his phone screen.

'You know where to find me. -VN'

Yakov scrunches up his nose and slides his phone into his pocket. 

 

"Thank you," He mutters, standing up hastily, Yuri abruptly following his actions. The two scurry quickly out from the conference room, leaving the reporters to discuss among themselves. They rush through the hall.

"You've really got to stop him from doing that. He's making us look like idiots." Yuri groaned, holding three files in his arms.

"If you can tell me how he does it, I'll stop him." 

=========================

 

Yuuri isn't completely sure of what he'll decide to do next. Nor is he really sure of how he'll decide, taking into account the circumstances he's been left with. He counts his steps as he takes in sharp breaths, limping down the path through the park, haste to travel as quickly as possible. He leans on his cane, grunting every so often with both frustration and pain, the lingering memories haunting him with every waking moment. Crisp winds blow, the city of London bustling behind him, as he passes a man seated on a bench.

"Yuuri!"

He keeps walking. He tells himself he's simply just hearing voices again. Perhaps he should really start listening to his therapist, no matter how much he despises her.

"Yuuri!"

Yuuri slows down, unsure if he had heard his name being called once more.

"Yuuri! Yuuri Katsuki!"

He comes to a complete stop, and whirls around. He knows he isn't hearing voices. The man who was seated at the bench stands up, lifting his hat off his head. He quickly steps forward to Yuuri.

"Nishigori," He says, pointing to himself. "Takeshi Nishigori. We were at Barts together." Yuuri nodds. He remembers, he just doesn't want to have anything or anyone that reminded him of the war near him. Of course, that would be completely impossible, as nearly everything held some sort of memory that was linked to the tragic events.

"Yes, sorry, yes," He quickly holds out his free hand, trying to avoid eye contact. "Yes, Takeshi, hello," Takeshi chuckles, shaking Yuuri's hand.

"Yeah, I know. I got fat," Takeshi jokes.

Yuuri purses his lips and shakes his head. "No, no." He would've added something if the conversation hadn't moved quicker.

"I heard you were abroad somewhere getting shot at." Takeshi comments, folding his newspaper. Yuuri furrows his brows, staring at the crumpled paper. Who even reads the paper anymore? "What happened?" Yuuri pauses, unsure if he were to reply snarkily or with sincerity. He looks down for a brief moment at his knee.

"I got shot." He replies. Takeshi laughs with a hint of awkwardness.

There's a very uncomfortable few seconds of silence between them.

"Uh," Yuuri fidgets with his hands. "So you're still at Barts, then?"

"Teaching now." Yuuri nods. "Bright young things like we used to be." He lets out a laugh. "God, I hate them... What about you? Just staying in town while you get yourself sorted?" Yuuri sighed.

"I can't afford London on an Army pension."

"And," Takeshi added. "You can't bear to be anywhere else. That's not the Yuuri Katsuki I know."

"Yeah, well I'm not the Yuuri Katsuki you know." Yuuri cut him off. Takeshi looks away. He stops, then turns back to the man in glasses.

"Katsuki number two couldn't help?"

Yuuri scoffs.

"Yeah, like that's gonna happen."

Takeshi sighs.

"Well, you could get a roommate or something. Share a flat or something." Yuuri shakes his head.

"Come on. Who'd want me for a roommate?" Takeshi laughs.

Yuuri gives him a perplexed look. "What?" Takeshi continues to laugh.

"Nothing, it's just," He takes a moment to catch his breath. "You're the second person to say that to me."

Yuuri freezes. He blinks. Then he silently wonders if that'll mean he'll get a roommate just as anxious and fucked up as he. If that'll mean he'll end up sharing a living space with someone who was a weirdo or a psychopath, or perhaps someone who had low self-esteem. Again, he wasn't sure what to make of this. He isn't sure if he wants to even know who Takeshi was talking about.

"Who was the first?"

=======================

Viktor carefully unzips the body bag, not bothering to roll up the sleeves of his trench coat. He squints. The flesh is pale, the body lifeless. Well, of course, it'd be lifeless. It was dead.

"How long?" He asks, his voice low. Footsteps surround him.

"Just in," Minami Kenjirou replies, walking by, clipboard in hand. "67, natural causes," He reads from the paper. He stops. "Used to work here. I knew him. He was nice." Viktor closes the bag and turns to the shorter male.

"Fine," He states. Minami turns to him, eagerly smiling. "We'll start with the riding crop." He nods and quickly hurries out of the room. The young man returns and hands it to him. To which Viktor nods and simply takes it from his hand.

Viktor was always like this. His thirst for information, his strange need to be near any form of anything that wasn't alive and his mind. His brilliant above average intellect capable of holding information that could never be even touched by a normal human being. What Viktor Nikiforov was, was dangerous, genius, and fearless. The man was strange, his odd quirks proving to be useful in cases such as murder, marriage related issues, and more. Still, his acumen of the human mind was so great that most would believe for his tellings to be false. Did that matter to him? Of course not. He had no time to even think of such things.

Minami winces, though he knows he should be more than used to watching such disturbing acts. Peering through the window, he keeps his eyes fixed on Viktor's arm whipping back, slamming back down on the corpse laid across the metal surface. It does seem a little harsh, Minami guesses, but he's sure that Viktor's only hungry for data, and not for the fun of whipping a dead, freshly rotting body.

(At least he hopes.)

He isn't sure if he should walk in, but he does anyway.

Viktor's breathing his ragged, and he exhales deeply, straying from the corpse. Minami smiles.

"So, bad day, was it?" He chuckles, trying his best to pretend there wasn't a dead body laid out in front of him. Viktor completely avoids the question. He brings his wrist up, eyes on his watch.

"I need to know what bruises form in the next twenty minutes," He mumbles, adjusting his scarf and sleeves. "A man's alibi depends on it. Text me." Minami doesn't bother protesting anymore.

"Listen, I was thinking, maybe if you'd want some coffee--"

"Black with two sugars, please. I'll be upstairs."

Minami stares.

"O-Okay."

And with that, Viktor is gone.

=======================

Takeshi pushes the door open, holding his arm to for Yuuri. The man hobbles in, nodding as a thank you to his friend. Viktor looks up from his microscope, only for a moment, sneaking a few glances at the two men who have just walked into the lab. Yuuri can't help but stare at the room, breathing in as he analyzes his surroundings. He grunts.

"Bit different from my day," The room is scattered with tubes, microscopes, sinks. The only colors are white, metallic silvers and the transparent liquids held in the hundreds of tubes.

"Oh, you have no idea." Takeshi smiles, keeping his eyes on Viktor.

"Takeshi," Viktor suddenly says. The taller man looks up. "Can I borrow your phone? There's no signal on mine." He scrunches his nose.

"What's wrong with the landline?" He asks, not wanting to give the man his phone. Viktor picks up a plastic baggie.

"I prefer to text." Yuuri stares at Viktor, not knowing what he should've expected. He was certainly... different. His hair was somewhat taken care of, shirt unbuttoned at the collar. His sleeves were rolled up, and his eyes a breathtaking bluish color.

"Sorry," Takeshi looks down at his shoes. "It's in my coat." He walks over to the man. Yuuri quickly takes action, reaching into his pocket.

"Uh, here," He says, holding out the small device. "Use mine." Viktor puts on a slight smile, his eyes flickering from Yuuri to Takeshi before he stands up to take the phone.

"Oh," He hums. "Thank you." He walks over, fixing his sleeves, and holding out his hand. Yuuri places the phone in his palm.

"This is a friend of mine," Takeshi says, pointing at Yuuri. "Katsuki Yuuri." Viktor doesn't acknowledge the given information. He holds the phone out in front of him.

"Afghanistan or Iraq?" Takeshi smirks, making eye contact with Yuuri. He shifts his weight and purses his lips. Had he heard correctly?

"Sorry?" He sends Takeshi a look.

"Which was it, Afghanistan or Iraq?" Viktor looks up and makes eye contact with Yuuri for the first time. Yuuri can't help but avert his eyes somewhere else. He chooses Takeshi, his mouth open.

"Ah... Afghanistan... sorry... How did you..?" He's cut off as the door swings open. Minami rushes in, a cup of coffee in his hands.

"Ah, Minami," Viktor turns from Yuuri and the phone, reaching out to accept the mug. "Coffee, thank you." Minami nods and scurries out of the room, giving a small smile to Yuuri. Viktor walks across the room, setting the mug on the counter.

"How do you feel about the violin?" He asks, opening his laptop. Yuuri doesn't know what's going on.

"Sorry... what?"

"I play," Viktor pauses, typing rapidly. "Play the violin when I'm thinking and sometimes I don't talk for days on end." He says quickly. "Would that bother you?" He looks at Yuuri, tilting his head. Now Yuuri feels like he should be frightened, but surprisingly, he feels more intrigued than scared.

"Potential roommates should know the worst about each other," Viktor adds, giving him a smile. Yuuri deadpans. He glares at Takeshi.

"You told him about me?"

Takeshi simply grins, holding his hands up. "Not a word." Yuuri shifts again. He's certain it's normal to be outraged by this, but he knows he isn't. Both normal and outraged.

"Then who said anything about roommates?" He didn't know if he should label this man as interesting or dangerous. Perhaps both. Both would be good.

"I did," Viktor replies, picking up his coat. "I told Takeshi this morning that I must be a difficult man to find a roommate for, and now here is his, just after lunch with an old friend clearly just home from military service in Afghanistan." He pulls the coat over his shoulders and wraps a blue scarf around his neck. "Wasn't a difficult leap."

Yuuri takes a second to collect his thoughts, staring at the rows of test tubes before he looks up again. "How did you know about Afghanistan?" Viktor walks towards the door.

"I've got my eye on a nice little place in Central London. Together we ought to afford it." He sneaks three glances at the phone. He hands it to Yuuri smiling. "We'll meet there tomorrow evening, 7:00." he shakes his head. "Sorry, I've got to run. I left my riding crop in the mortuary." Yuuri freezes.

What?

"Is that..." Yuuri blinks. He turns around. "Is that it?"

"Is that what?" Viktor stops in front of the door.

"We've only just met and we're going to look at a flat?"

"Problem?" Yuuri decides this man is insane. He turns and gives a look of disbelief to Takeshi, who just smiles.

"We don't know a thing about each other," He hisses to Viktor. "I don't know where we're meeting, and I don't even know your name." Viktor frowns.

"I know you're an Army Doctor and you've been invalided home from Afghanistan. I know you've got a brother who's worried about you but you won't go to him because you don't approve of him, possibly because he's an alcoholic. More likely because he walked out on his wife." He glances down. "And I know that your therapist thinks your limp is psychosomatic, quite correctly I'm afraid." Yuuri visibly shifts uncomfortably. "That's enough to go off of, don't you think?" Viktor mutters, turning away. Yuuri doesn't move.

"The name's Viktor Nikiforov. The address is 221B Baker Street." He winks. "Good afternoon," He waves to Takeshi, and slips out the door.

Yuuri stares at Takeshi.

"Yeah," Takeshi says, still smiling. "He's always like that."

Yuuri isn't sure whether his stomach should lurch or if he should be thrilled.

Both, he decides once more, shifting his weight and grip on the walking stick. Both.

===================== 

_ A woman, completely dressed from head to toe in complete pink, slowly kneels down, hands trembling as she reaches for a tiny glass container. Her fingers gently clasp around the glass, lifting it slowly to her blotchy red face. Tears won't stop trickling down her cheeks as she closes her eyes and shakes her head. Silently, careful not to let out a sob, she tilts her head back and accepts her fate. _

========================

Viktor steps out of the taxi, nodding his head to the driver as a thank you. He turns to the very entrance of 221b Baker Street, the door an odd mixture of a dark green and a tad of black. Yuuri's standing there, waiting. His walking stick in one hand, and the other sitting in his pocket.

"Hello," Viktor greets, not bothering to wave.

"Mr. Nikiforov, was it?" Yuuri pulls his hand from his pocket and sticks it out to shake hands. Viktor pulls off his gloves.

"No need for formalities. Viktor, please," He smiles for the slightest bit before turning to the door as it quietly creaks open.

"This," Yuuri says quietly. "This is a nice place. Not too expensive and a good location." Viktor turns back to him and smiles once more.

"The landlady. She owes me a favour." Yuuri nods. "A few years back her husband got himself sentenced to death in Florida. I ended up helping out a bit." Yuuri raises his eyebrows.

"Sorry... you stopped her husband from being executed?" He asks, astonished for a minute.

"Oh, no," Viktor turns back to the door. "I ensured it."

Yuuri turns behind him and glances back at the street a few times, bewildered by this man. He certainly was a strange one.

"Vitya!" He whips his head back to the door. An old woman stands her arms open wide to the silver haired man.

"Lilia!" Her hair is tightly pulled up, but it isn't completely grey. It's a brownish color, her eyes green, fierce and bold, piercing right through the two men. Viktor leans in to embrace her.

"Lilia, this is Doctor Katsuki Yuuri." Yuuri nods and waves, stepping forward.

"Hello, dear. Do come in you two. It's bit chilly, don't you think?" Yuuri nods again and thanks her.

They climb the stairs after entering through the main entrance, and Yuuri is slightly dumbfounded by what he sees. The living space isn't as he expected, but it is indeed nice. It seems furnished for the most part, and the walls are a lovely print. Not to mention the furniture is beautiful and the layout of the entire apartment is exceptional. The only thing.... Would be the mess.

"Well," He inhales, hobbling around. "this could be very nice," Viktor seems to agree.

"Very nice indeed." He looks around and seems to admire the place. Yuuri stops by the kitchen. He scrunches his nose. He swears he saw a bag of human eyes sitting on the counter, but he couldn't tell behind the dozens of tubes sitting on the table. "Yes. I think it's very nice... my thoughts precisely... So I went straight and I moved in--"

"Soon as we get all of this trash out." Viktor stops.

"Oh," They make eye contact for a brief moment. It's awkward. Really awkward. Yuuri continues to stand there. Viktor rushes to the coffee table and scoops up five books and a stack of papers and stacks them onto a desk. "Um, I can, uh, straighten things up a bit." He runs back to the fireplace and pulls three books laying by the chairs out from the shelf.

"That's," Yuuri eyes the fireplace. "That's a skull." He points to the human skull placed neatly next to a framed photograph.

"Yes," Viktor exhales quickly. "A.. a friend of mine." Yuuri looks down.

"When I say' friend'..." Viktor trails off and returns to piling books and papers onto his desk.

"What do you think then, Dr. Katsuki?" Lilia asks softly. She smiles. "There's another bedroom upstairs if you'll be needing two bedrooms." Yuuri stares at the woman. As does Viktor.

"Of.. of course we'll be needing two." He blinks and furrows his brows. Lilia just smiles and presses her hands together.

"Oh, don't worry. We've got all sorts round here." She points to the wall behind her. "Mrs. Turner next door's got married ones." She winks. Yuuri flushes red. He sneaks a glance at Viktor who's already gotten rid of his coat and placed it somewhere. Lilia walks into the kitchen, her heels clicking on the wooden floor. She purses her lips and turns to Viktor.

"Oh, Vitya... the mess you've made," She says. Yuuri takes a seat in one of the chairs. He grunts.

"I look you up on the internet last night," He says, earning Viktor's attention.

The man stares at him for a brief moment, silent. "Anything... Anything interesting?" Yuuri takes in a breath.

"Found your website. 'The Science of Deduction.'"

"What'd you think?"

Yuuri scoffs. Viktor gives him a look. "You said you could identify a software designer by his tie and an airline pilot by his left thumb."

"Yes," Viktor stiffens. "And I can read your military career in your face and your leg, and your brother's drinking habits on your mobile phone." Yuuri tilts his head.

"How?" He challenges. Viktor dismisses the topic by turning away as Lilia returns into the room. She holds up a newspaper.

"How about these suicides, then, Vitya?" She holds up the paper. "I thought that'd be up your street. Three, exactly the same." Viktor only stops but doesn't turn to face her. He slowly approaches the window.

Yuuri wishes to be only confused and afraid, but everything this man does makes him more perplexed, more intrigued and begging for answers.

He stops and lifts the blinds. "Four." Lilia stares at him. Yuuri can't help but drown in his own curiosity. "There's been a fourth. And there's something different this time.

=====================================

Lilia is confused. She furrows her brows and stares at the window to see what Viktor is looking at. Yuuri can’t help but feel the same as the old woman. “A fourth?” She asks, quite stunned. There’s a police car parked outside directly in front of the entrance. Viktor doesn’t seem to be disturbed by the sudden presence of the vehicle, nor does he seem surprised. When there’s a knock on the door, everyone in the room turns to the entrance to the living room. Lilia is quick to rush over and open the door, inviting the guest in. 

“Where?” Viktor stares at the old man. 

“Brixton,” He huffs, taking off his hat. Yakov isn’t sure how Viktor knew, but he’d gotten used to the feeling of being left in the dark. All he really could do was put all of his trust into the man. “Lauriston Gardens,” He’s out of breath. 

“What’s new about this one?” Viktor turns to face Yuuri, locking eyes with him for a brief moment. “You wouldn’t have come to get me if it wasn’t something different.” Yakov shook his head. 

“You know how they never leave a note?” He furrows his brows in frustration. 

“Yeah,” Viktor sneaks another glance at Yuuri. Yuuri is beginning to question everything that has led up to now. 

“This one did.” Yakov looks at Yuuri. Yuuri isn’t sure what to make of the man’s odd and cold aura. He feels trapped. “Will you come?” Yakov finishes, turning his attention back to Viktor. The silver haired man purses his lips. He looks up a bit as if he’s thinking over the biggest decision in his life. He knows he isn’t wanted-- but he also knows they need him. 

“Who’s on Forensics?” He inquires, testing the old man. 

“Yura. And Otabek.” Viktor curses under his breath which does, surprisingly startle Yuuri. He turns away and bites his lip. 

“Yuri won’t work with me,” He hisses. Yuuri’s attention snaps to him. Yakov let out a breath. 

“He won’t be your assistan--” 

“I need an assistant.” Viktor growls. Yakov snaps his head over to Lilia, shooting her a look of disbelief. There were times when he felt Viktor was a bit much-- that being most of the time. 

He looks back to Viktor. “Will you come?” Viktor scoffs. 

“Not in a cab.” Yakov rolls his eyes, and Yuuri stares. He can’t help but feel out of place here. But who wouldn’t? Yakov doesn’t smile, but if he did, he’d be smiling right about now. 

“Thank you,” He bows slightly and turns sharply on his heel. Yuuri swears Lilia and Yakov made eye contact for more than five seconds, but that really isn’t any of his business. 

Yuuri is beyond perplexed. He turns to the door, then back at Viktor, not saying a word. 

The silver haired man smiles and laughs to himself, grinning at the police cars driving out of sight. Yuuri wonders if he’s mental. 

Suddenly, Viktor springs into the air, firsts up. He claps, smiling and laughing. “Brilliant! Yes!” He cheers, hastily making his way to the door. He shoots excited looks towards the window. “Ah! Four serial suicides and now a note!” He exclaims clapping his hands together. He spins, his hands running through his hair. 

“Oh, it’s Christmas!” He shouts, beaming. “Lilia, I’ll be late, might need some food,” He swiftly picks up his coat and slides his arms through. Lilia shakes her head, but Yuuri sees the fond smile stretched across her face. 

“I’m your landlady, dear, not your housekeeper,” She calls after him. Viktor completely disregards her comment. 

“Something cold will do, thank you,” He buttons up his coat and grabs the pair of leather gloves he left on the table. “Yuuri, have a cup of tea. Make yourself at home,” Then he’s gone out the door. 

Yuuri is completely baffled, speechless-- he doesn’t know what to say about the situation he’s in. It’s funny how much Lilia seemed to think there was nothing odd about a man all excited about a suicide note. 

“Look at him, dashing about…” She chuckles. Yuuri only nods. “My husband was just the same,” He says dreamily. “but … you’re more the sitting-down type. I can tell,” Yuuri is completely lost. Lilia stands in silence. “I’ll make you that cup of tea… you rest your leg.” 

“Damn my leg!!” Yuuri shouts. Lilia jumps and turns to him, eyes wide. “Sorry, I am so sorry…. You know sometimes it’s just this…” Yuuri flushes red. Lilia nods understandingly. 

“Oh, I understand, dear… I’ve got a bad hip..” She taps her hip and turns to the kitchen. Yuuri doesn’t know what to do with himself. 

“A… a cup of tea would be lovely, thank you,” He says, pulling a newspaper from the stack on the coffee table. 

“Just this once dear, I’m not your housekeeper,” Lilia calls from the kitchen. 

“A couple biscuits too, if you’ve got them..” Yuuri adds, flipping through the pages. 

“Not your housekeeper!” 

Yuuri stares at the paper. Lately it seems all he ever does is stare. His eyes scan the page quickly, one column seeming to catch his attention. He reads it. He guesses it’s the same case the man who walked in was talking about. He notices the old man’s photograph in the paper right beside the article featuring the three suicides that he claims are all linked. 

_ ‘Detective Inspector Yakov Feltsman’.  _

Yuuri’s never heard the name before. 

“You’re a doctor,” Yuuri looks up. Viktor’s still standing in the doorway. “And you’re an army doctor.” Immediately, Yuuri places the paper back on the table and stands. He clears his throat. 

“Yes,” Viktor raises his eyebrows, and nods-- as if he’s impressed. 

“Any good?” Yuuri takes a moment. 

“Very good,” He decides to reply. 

Viktor nods again. “So you’ve seen a lot of injuries then… lots of violent deaths..?” Yuuri isn’t sure where he’s getting at, but he decides to go along. 

“Well, yes.” Viktor steps closer. 

“Bit of trouble too, I bet?” Closer. 

“Of course, yes.” Closer. “Enough for a lifetime. Far too much.” Viktor smirks. 

“Wanna see some more?” Yuuri inhales shakily, their eyes never drifting from each other’s gaze. He breathes. 

“Oh god, yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much for reading! We both love this series and ah! it's really just brilliant. Everything is, damnit.


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